


On The Day To Remember

by Lanyonn



Series: Before & After Universe [Arthur/Eames] [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstanding, Romance, Slightest bit of angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanyonn/pseuds/Lanyonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is so smart and skilled that he could have been anything – a high profile corporate lawyer, an MIT tech genius, a world renowned neurosurgeon, a Wall Street tycoon or even the US President if he set his mind to it. But instead, he ends up as a dream thief, being chased by angry employers and angrier victims. </p><p>The thing is Arthur loves being a dream thief just like he loves Eames. Arthur could have had anyone in the world but instead he has Eames who gambles, cheats and steals from the rich patrons of the hotels they stay in. It isn’t as if the world of dream thievery or Eames found him – it is Arthur who left behind everything that could have been suitably excellent and sought out the one thing and the one person who no one would have approved for him.</p><p>On retrospect, he probably deserves all the fucked up situations dream sharing and Eames land him in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Day To Remember

**On The Day To Remember**

 

“What do you think you want from life?” Eames had once asked Arthur as they lay drunk, stark naked and wrapped in blankets atop a hillock. Their impromptu night picnic had turned into an outdoors sex fest and Eames had been supremely satisfied with the world.

 

“The best,” Arthur had replied simply and punctuated his response with a belch. He had dissolved into drunken laughter and Eames had joined in. However, Eames never forgot that answer and it keeps coming back to him at ridiculous times.

 

Times like right now when he is nursing his second Negroni and the world is melting into Munch-inspired colours around him. He digs out the 12 carat blue diamond ring from his pocket yet again and the world grows progressively more depressed despite the bitter alcohol buzzing through his system.

 

Of course Arthur wants the best from life. He deserves the best from life. He’s so fucking _perfect_ , Arthur is. You’ll never find Eames deny that even in jest. However, the heart-breaking corollary to the fact that is that Arthur deserves someone as perfect to complement him and Eames is not the one. Of course, Arthur has every reason to refuse his proposal. What had Eames even been thinking? Eames is a pretty awesome guy himself but he is just not in the same league as Arthur. Arthur loves him, no doubt about that, but if he has apprehensions committing himself anymore to Eames than he already has, then it is understandable, perfectly reasonable.

 

Still, it hurts Eames a bloody lot.

 

Eames takes another swig of the orange-red liquid, shuddering at the taste even though he has been drinking it ever since he arrived at the bar. There is no getting used to the Negroni’s bitterness. There is no getting used to Arthur’s barefaced rejection of his proposal.

 

The diamond catches light from a lamp and glints callously at him.

 

Eames knew Arthur would settle for nothing less than the best, which was why he had lured Arthur into a mind-numbingly boring job for an ostentatiously rich oil baron. Their ruse had been vacationers to an extravagant Greek resort. The job needed barely four days but Eames had bartered payment in form of a whole month’s vacation. Arthur had fallen hopelessly in love with their seafront bungalow and private beach, which, for Eames, meant a happy Arthur who couldn’t get enough of Eames. It had been perfect.

 

Eames had shelled out a filthy amount of Euros for some weird fruit and weirder seafood this evening. Arthur hadn’t discovered his preference for Mediterranean cuisine till he had eaten it in plain view of the Aegean Sea. The waiter’s lips had thinned perceptibly when Eames had ordered hamburger and fries from the only four itemed section in the menu. Arthur had insisted on buying the wine. Eames was fine with that since it implied Arthur would select it, too. Eames didn’t want to spoil the evening by ordering the tackiest Dom Perignon they had.

 

“I feel like you’re building up to something,” Arthur had said as they walked back along the beach to their private bungalow afterwards. “What is it? Did you fuck something up real bad on our last job? Are we in mortal peril?”

 

Eames had laughed and tackled Arthur to the sand.

 

“What if I did? Think you could forgive me for it now?” he had asked, amused, pinning Arthur’s wrists down and straddling his hips.

 

Arthur had smirked and pushed his semi hard cock to Eames’ ass. “Maybe if you begged me really hard, I would.”

 

They could have moved on to some really sleazy and messy beach sex under the moonlight but the ring sat heavy in Eames’ pocket and he was riding on waves of good luck. Nothing could go wrong tonight at all, could it? He had let go of Arthur’s wrists and shifted back. Arthur had sat up and put his arms around Eames’ neck and pulled him into a slow and long kiss. It was passionate and full of desire but at the same time, it went slow and the tongue was interrupted with a lot of lips-only butterfly kisses. They hadn’t kissed like this before. Eames had never felt so much in love with Arthur as he had in that moment. If ever the moment had been right, this was it.

 

“Arthur, darling,” Eames had whispered against Arthur’s lips as he sat in his lap. Arthur’s arms were tight around his body. “There’s something I need to ask, pet, something that I must absolutely know…”

 

Arthur had foregone the horrible pomade for the evening and the wind and sand had messed up his hair something bad. However, he had never looked more beautiful to Eames. Something flickered across his expression and he swallowed, his grip tightening on Eames’ body. His eyes had a wild look, a good, euphoric kind of wild.

 

In his testosterone and love heightened state, Eames had taken that as encouragement.

 

He had fished out the 12 carat blue diamond ring and held it open on his palm between them.

 

It hurt so terribly to think of that one second when Eames’ mouth had gone dry, he couldn’t breathe, could see, hear, smell, taste and feel nothing except Arthur – that one freaking second of absolute bliss when he had felt so horribly sure of everything in life. _Will you marry me?_

 

However, before he could get the words out, a dark storm had broken out over Arthur’s face. His eyes had gone blank, cold, black stones set in a grave.

 

“What the fucking hell, Eames!” Arthur had exclaimed his voice laced with mad fury. “Where the fuck did you steal it, you fucking bastard!”

 

A fresh stab of hurt rips through Eames’ body when he thinks of that moment again and recalls how enraged Arthur had been. Eames had gone hard and quiet in response and refused to divulge where he had gotten the ring from. _You’re such a miserable little thief_ , Arthur had spat out at him, shaking in anger. _Can’t you fucking keep your hands off one fucking shiny bauble for a fucking moment, you fucking kleptomaniac?_

 

Eames slams his glass down and orders a third round of Negroni. There’s not enough bitterness and alcohol to drown some misery in this world.

 

Nor enough boys, he thinks ruefully as a pretty muscled red head gets onto the empty stool beside his. Eames replies to his flirtations or thinks he does. He feels a hand on his thigh and another on his arm and thinks of how Arthur will declare that Eames is a ‘fucking whore’ in addition to being a ‘fucking kleptomaniac’. There is warm minty breath near his face but it is nothing like Arthur. Arthur doesn’t do mint. It’s classless, apparently. Instead, he does some exotic spices that Eames now identifies as aphrodisiacs.

 

Despite his booze-befuddled state, Eames’ fist clenches around the ring in his hand as he feels fingers go near it – perks of being a magpie.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Arthur’s voice is less anger and more exasperation as he pulls Eames away from the sloppy kiss the red head had initiated (that’s going to be Eames’ story). “Get away from him,” Arthur barks at the other man who is sober enough to scramble away when he sees death looming near.

 

Some remote part of Eames is relieved to realise that the fingers that had reached out for the ring had been Arthur’s and not the anonymous kisser’s.

 

“Give it to me,” Arthur says sternly and wipes Eames’ mouth roughly with a bunch of tissues.

 

Eames misses the chance of a lot of impromptu sexual innuendos. He wants to be peevish and ask Arthur why he wants goods stolen by ‘fucking kleptomaniacs’. However, Arthur’s expression makes him hold back even though he had been on his third Negroni. The anger that has left Arthur’s voice has settled into every line of his face and every tense muscle of his throat and body.

 

Eames meekly hands over the ring to him.

 

“Look at me,” Arthur snaps and jerks up Eames’ chin so that he is looking at him. “If anybody asks you, you never had this ring. You don’t know what ring they are talking about. You’ve never heard of 12 carat blue diamond heirlooms. Do you get that?” he asks with a voice slow and cold. If Eames ever imagined that he would have trouble recovering his senses after his binge drinking, then Arthur is there to dispel such thoughts. Eames is sobering up faster than humanly possible with his BAC.

 

“Yeah?” he replies, managing to drag out the word to a complete sentence. Okay, still not so sober.

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” replies Arthur in a horrible British accent and pays Eames’ tab. “Come on, Eames,” he says, hauling him to his feet. “We have to get out of here fast. I have managed to get us a plane that will take us out of here in a few hours. We won’t make it if you won’t be able to walk by yourself, goddammit.”

 

Eames tries not to topple over and drag Arthur down with him.

 

For a man insisting that they should be engaging in some fast walking, Arthur sure walks slow, Eames thinks deliriously, not really realising that Arthur has stopped moving. The world is swirling and dancing around him. He loses sense of time and then he can make out Arthur’s voice, sense the fear and tension. Who is Arthur talking to? He strains to hear the words but can make no sense of them.

 

“ _Yes, I have it. Yes, I’m going to give it up alright. There’s no need to be hasty about this. Look, it is back at my bungalow. Let me go back and get it. I’m going to hand it over. Stay away from him! My boyfriend has nothing to do with this!_ ”

 

As Arthur pushes him back and steps protectively in front of him, Eames forces open his eyes and notices a lot of cheap black shoed feet – a lot of feet.

 

He holds onto Arthur’s body harder and is about to say something really heroic about protecting Arthur but the dizziness finally takes him over and he collapses to his feet.

 

When Eames comes to himself again, he is warm under thin covers and stripped down to his briefs underneath them. There is salty breeze caressing his skin and familiar fingers stroking his cheek. Eames turns his head and leans into the touch. The fingers caress and cup his cheek and then Arthur speaks.

 

“Wake up, you big idiot.”

 

Eames groans and squints at the nearest source of light. They are back in their bedroom in the bungalow. The sun is high up. Arthur pats his cheek before getting off the bed.

 

“You stink, Eames. Come on, join me in the shower.”

 

Eames watches as Arthur undresses, throws his clothes in the laundry basket and disappears into the bathroom. His body feels heavy and his head is a painful rock. However, the prospect of a shower with Arthur is motivation enough for him to get out of bed and follow Arthur.

 

His mouth tastes horrible so Eames cleans it up, giving it extra swishes of Listerine before opening the shower curtains and getting under the water with Arthur. Arthur’s eyes are closed as he shampoos his hair. Eames removes his hands and rinses out Arthur’s hair himself. Arthur runs his fingers over the wet dark pelt over Eames’ chest as he waits, eyes closed.

 

When he looks at Eames again, his face is sombre, thoughtful.

 

“I’m sorry. I was unreasonably harsh last night,” he says quietly as he squirts out liberal amounts of shower gel on the tan sponge and then starts rubbing it over Eames’ chest, arms and stomach. He makes Eames turn around before speaking again. “I lost my head. That ring was the last thing I expected to see in your hands right then. I had no idea how long you’d had it on you, if we were being hunted down as you spoke, it just... it doesn’t matter. Whatever went on through my head, I shouldn’t have spoken like that to you. I’m sorry.” He rubs the sponge all over Eames’ back and then stops. His fingers trace a shoulder wing and then he wraps his arms around Eames from behind. “I’m really sorry. I cannot apologise enough.”

 

It is amazing how placating Arthur’s submissive apologies are. Eames is quick to forgive. Naked showers with Arthur humbly apologising for ruining one of the most perfect moments in his life? Grand! Eames never gets direct apologies from Arthur after he ruins things like that. He hems and haws and sulks till Eames gets over his annoyance. Arthur did go overboard last evening but it wasn’t anything exceptional. They have had countless fights like that. In fact, Eames can attest that Arthur said much worse things every single freaking day for eight months while Eames was perfecting a fake of a rare Rembrandt. He had been planning to steal the original from a media mogul who had boasted about it ‘annoyingly’ in Eames opinion. Eames had roped Arthur into helping him steal and replace the original. Arthur had done it but he had been absolutely insufferable during the whole deal, threatening to bite off Eames’ cock the next time they had sex and putting a knife inside his pee hole. It had really messed with Eames’ concentration at one point.

 

Eames’ dejection last night had all been a result of Arthur flipping out at a time when it was supposed to be their _moment_ , the one that they would later remember forever. Arthur had probably had an overreaction because he hadn’t known how to say ‘no’ without hurting Eames real bad. It was alright. Eames would go along with that excuse. So what if the diamond he stole was an extremely rare one worth over fifty million dollars? Arthur didn’t care about money like that. He had more class. But for the sake of going back to their previous lovey-dovey comfort, Eames will go along with the ruse of the whole ‘ _I was mad because you stole a famous ring_ ’.

 

“It’s alright,” Eames replies magnanimously. He turns in Arthur’s arms and presses his lips to Arthur’s wet grainy jaw. He enjoys the rare feel of his morning shadow. Arthur is obsessively clean shaven most of the time. “It is a bloody rare diamond.”

 

Arthur gives him a funny look.

 

“Yeah, and seeing you kiss another guy is punishment enough for me,” he says with a twisted smile.

 

Whoa, wait, what?

 

Eames exerts his alcohol hazed memories and remembers something of that sort. He looks at Arthur guiltily. Arthur chuckles and touches a soapy finger to Eames’ lower lip. “It’s alright. I didn’t know you liked them so young. Are you having some sort of middle aged crisis?”

 

Their bodies are really close and Arthur is half-hard. He is pressing himself to Eames’ groin and the only thing Eames loves more than a naked and wet Arthur is a horny, naked and wet Arthur.

 

“I’m not middle aged,” he replies indignantly. He takes hold of Arthur’s wrist and moves his hand away from his face. “Don’t even remember the guy’s face,” he says as he tilts his head and brings his lips close to Arthur’s, “way too drunk.” He kisses Arthur hard, not giving him a chance to respond.

 

Arthur moans into the kiss and grasps Eames’ hair as he kisses him back hard. His slippery hand roams over Eames back and fondles his ass before wedging into the cleft of his butt. Arthur presses a fingertip to Eames’ hole as he keeps grinding his hardening cock against Eames’ crotch.

 

Arthur breaks the kiss, panting hard. He gives Eames a dark hungry look before turning him around and pressing him to the shower wall.

 

“What else don’t you remember?” Arthur’s voice is hot against his neck as he fingers Eames’ hole. Eames spreads his legs for him and braces himself against the wall. “Do you remember that the men finally caught up with us in the bar?” Arthur pushes his finger inside as Eames wills himself to relax the ring of muscles. “They had you pinpointed as the thief, too.” Eames groans as Arthur fucks him with a single finger a few times before jamming it deep inside and brushing it over his slick walls.

 

Eames is really tight and still not used to his ass being played with so much on a regular basis. All the times he had hooked up with Arthur before they had become a couple, Eames had been adamant about being on top. The occasional ass touching was alright but what he really wanted hard was pinning Arthur down and fucking him so hard that he would wear his marks on him for days and be hungry for more when the bruises faded away. They hadn’t had much opportunity back then. Eames had to make most of every chance he got and he wanted to use every single one of them to make sure Arthur wore his marks inside and out.

 

Moreover, it was a bit of psychological thing, too. Submitting his ass to Arthur for more than a little finger play was daunting for Eames. It messed up his feelings.

 

However, with their fiercely committed relationship for the past couple of years, Eames has been giving up his control in bed more and more. Arthur was absolutely delighted every time Eames gave in a little bit more. He hadn’t even lasted two minutes first time inside Eames’ ass, he had been so jubilant about it.

 

Eames’ knees grow weak as Arthur works in another finger. That stretch still hurts to start with but then it feels so bloody good. _Arthur_ feels so bloody good.

 

“You threw up all over their shoes,” Arthur is sucking hard on his thick neck, marking him viciously where nothing could cover it up except make up. Eames doesn’t do make up. “I wasn’t sure if I feared for our lives or thought it was a really funny climax to a tense scene.”

 

“Don’t... remember... that part,” Eames gets out in between gasps. He is bent over, his thighs straining as Arthur dribbles more shower gel over his ass and makes him take three fingers. He is breathing hard, concentrating on the fullness of having three fucking fingers inside his ass. Goddammit, this is crazy. He can’t do this. It is crazy. He can’t think anything anymore.

 

“You’re lucky it is me,” Arthur says and jabs his fingertips to the nerves over his prostate. “And that I managed to convince them that I needed some time getting the ring back to them. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be swimming with the blennies and being scavenged by the morays.” He holds Eames up with a firm arm around his waist as Eames cries out at the sensations, his cock oozing pre-cum and thighs cramping. Arthur abuses him with his fingers a few more times before pulling them out, leaves behind an aching void.

 

Eames groans out his name, begs for more.

 

Arthur has him with his back to the wall next. Eames grasps Arthur’s body in a hug as he spreads his legs for him, imploring Arthur to fuck him with his cock. Arthur lifts up one of his muscled thighs and kisses him frantically before looking down and guiding his soap slicked cock inside Eames’ ass. They’ve dispensed with the rubber for a long time now. Eames loves it. Eames loves being able to fuck Arthur whenever without bothering to check if he has a condom. Eames loves having Arthur’s thick naked cock inside his tight ass, feeling impossibly full with his meat inside him.

 

“You love getting fucked by me,” Arthur says hoarsely, sucking a bruise on Eames’ jaw as he pushes up his cock deep inside. “Tell me you love my cock.”

 

“Bloody _worship_ your cock,” Eames chokes out between needy moans. Arthur’s cock is his most favourite thing in the fucking universe. He holds onto Arthur harder as Arthur pounds his ass. His body shudders as the thick rim of Arthur’s head pushes and rubs over that crazy spot inside him. He is half-crying, half-screaming by the time Arthur finally pushes him over the edge by taking hold of his cock and jerking him hard together with the pounding he is giving his ass. He kisses Arthur all over his face as he feels the slimy wetness of Arthur’s jizz inside him.

 

Later, after Arthur has cleaned out his oversensitive ass with his fingers, raking his body with aftershocks of pleasure, Eames slumps over the bed, watching Arthur get dressed in one of his branded suits.

 

“Tell me more about how you saved me from being hunted down by manta rays,” he says, scratching his belly. He hasn’t bothered putting on more than underwear. Arthur has told him to stay put and not leave the bedroom when the men will arrive again. Eames is too pleasantly fucked out to argue.

 

“The eels, Eames,” Arthur corrects him. “Well, the ring is the heirloom of one of the most dangerous mafia families of New York. It is the Ocean’s Heart. You can’t just steal it and not expect them to hunt for your head in return.”

 

Eames chews on a Pringles chip as he processes that bit of information. He had heard the men discussing the ring’s worth which was what had drawn his attention to the ring on that lady’s finger. He didn’t know it had so much history. Of course, it would have so much history. But at that time, Eames had been busy coming up with a clever plan to steal it and not worrying about the repercussions.

 

“But you convinced the mafia to spare my life,” he says, looking at the mirror.

 

Arthur’s reflection looks him in the eye. “Yeah, I own your ass like that now.”

 

“You convinced them, did you?” Eames persists, licks his lips, and ignores the tingles of desire that bubble up inside him when he hears Arthur talk like that.

 

Arthur exhales heavily and looks away. He finishes knotting up his sexy purple tie and then walks over to the open window which has a fabulous view of the turquoise clear waters of the sea.

 

“They had no choice but to be convinced once they saw me. They couldn’t very well take the ring from me.” He pauses and then turns back to face Eames. “It belonged to my mother.”

 

Eames is shocked enough to stop gorging on the spicy chips.

 

Arthur walks towards him after a prolonged period of silence. His hair is gelled back like he means business and he looks exceptionally dapper today. He perches on the edge of the bed next to Eames and takes a chip from the box.

 

“So once upon a time, there lived a boy whose mom bequeathed to him the Ocean’s Heart. The boy was the youngest of her children and wasn’t really a favourite as a successor to his mafia boss. But he was his mother’s favourite kid. It sounds very Godfather-ish but it wasn’t that romantic. It was all rather burdensome. The boy didn’t succeed his father but the family honoured the mother’s words and let him have the diamond. The diamond is a family heirloom. It is supposed to be given as an engagement ring to the successor’s proposed bride. The boy thought he had found the one. It was a mistake,” Arthur paused and glanced at Eames before eating another chip. “But well, he thought so at that time. So he gave the ring to the girl, got engaged. Later, the boy realised that whatever he felt for the girl paled in comparison to what a certain man had made him feel at first sight. It was nothing compared to how madly he had fallen in love at a moment’s notice. He broke off the engagement, was disowned by his family and all that hoopla. It didn’t matter. The girl was actually his father’s protégé who is probably going to be his successor. So she is now the current owner of the Ocean’s Heart.”

 

Eames sits dumbly as Arthur eats chip after chip from his Pringles box.

 

“Arthur,” he says finally, “you’re talking about yourself in third person, darling.”

 

Arthur glances at Eames again, for once looking much too old for his age.

 

“When they found out it was me, they were confounded. They couldn’t very well kill me now, could they? Dad’s right hand man, Trevor, he was with them, fortunately. He always liked me. He said he will have to report back to Cara – that’s the girl I was engaged to once and who will, by all accounts, succeed as my father’s heir. She will possibly marry one of my brothers for the sake of it. Apparently, Cara is in Greece as well. She told them she will come down here and talk to me herself. Not really the usual protocol since technically, we’re supposed to be dragged out to wherever she is. I’m wondering why. Where did you steal the ring, by the way?”

 

“At the airport,” Eames replies automatically, his brain still whirring and grinding at the excess of information about Arthur, “while you were getting our passport trouble sorted out. She was wearing it on her finger. It was terribly easy.”

 

“You couldn’t resist,” Arthur says knowingly. He gives him a little smile then, puts aside the Pringles box and climbs onto the bed properly despite his chic suit and all.

 

“Resisting temptation is not my forte,” Eames says apologetically. Arthur looks so forlorn and vulnerable despite his spiffy clothes that Eames pulls him into his lap and cups his cheek. “Tell me more, darling. Are you completely sure we’re not getting bludgeoned to death any time soon?”

 

Arthur cosies up to him, resting his forehead against Eames’ shoulder and hugs him tightly. “Of course, we’re not. I’m family. You’re automatically family because I told them so. I’m not the favourite child but we don’t hurt our own. I sort of don’t want to give the Heart back,” he raises his head and looks at Eames, “because you gave it to me. It’s mine.” He sighs and hugs Eames tighter. “I just didn’t want the shadow of that life to darken things for us.”

 

Eames has a lot of questions, about five billion and twenty million.

 

Still, he masochistically asks, “Tell me more about the lady.”

 

Arthur smiles wryly as he looks at him. “Our break up wasn’t in the least amicable. She was outraged and I think for some time, she really did want me dead. I didn’t go back to the States for quite a while. She’s a bit of a nutcase. She has a good heart but I don’t think she will ever forgive me in this life.”

 

Eames licks his lower lip and pulls Arthur closer. “Did you tell her why you broke up with her?”

 

Arthur touches Eames’ lips with his own, just a soft brush. “No. That would have been a crazy risk. I couldn’t let her know there was anyone else at all. I’m not narcissistic enough to presume I still mean something to her but she can carry a grudge. And I will absolutely not let anyone, family or not, lay a finger on you. You’re mine to protect.”

 

Arthur pulls back a little and fishes out the diamond ring from his pocket. He holds it in his palm as it shines dazzlingly in the warm daylight. “Last night...”

 

Eames takes the diamond ring from him, feeling cold fingers squeezing his heart. “Arthur, don’t...”

 

“I knew,” Arthur persists, turns over his hand and holds it up for Eames, “I knew, because I know you.” He turns his gaze up to meet Eames’ and he has that wild look in his eyes again, the one he had last night as he waited for Eames to get on with it, the look that had prompted Eames to be so sure everything was going to turn out _well_. “And I wanted it, wanted it so bad...”

 

Eames swallows hard and glances down at Arthur’s hand held prone in front of him. Then it strikes him. Arthur is waiting for him to put the ring on it. Bloody hell.

 

Eames puts the ring on Arthur’s finger. It is a snug fit on the ring finger. Eames had modified the width some to fit. He takes hold of Arthur’s hand afterwards and kisses his fingers, each one, one by one, slowly, lovingly, melting Arthur more and more with each kiss. They can’t even speak in complete sentences anymore.

 

“If I have to give it up...”

 

“You’re still going to be mine...”

 

Arthur smiles, a little shy, mostly ecstatic. “And we’ll get actual rings, non-tacky ones...”

 

“Arthur,” laughs Eames, pushing him to the bed and completely messing up his twenty thousand dollar suit, “you _didn’t_ just call a diamond ring worth over fifty million in dollars ‘tacky’!”

 

Arthur laughs, too, for once completely unconcerned about Eames disrespecting his clothing. “The diamond is too big, Eames,” he insists, grasping Eames’ neck and kisses his face. “Flamboyant, in-your-face...”

 

“Arthur, love, really...”

 

Eames tries to look pained but only manages a funny grimace which has Arthur laughing and kissing him harder.

 

Afterwards, Arthur goes down with his suit scandalously creased, hair a little out of place but with a radiant aura that catches Cara off guard. Eames hangs in the background in a pair of blue slacks and white shirt. She doesn’t even spare him a glance at first.

 

“Sorry, it was a mistake. I just wanted to feel it again.” Arthur pulls it off his ring finger and holds it out for her. “You didn’t have to come all the way here for it. I’d have sent it back with Trevor.”

 

There are no greetings. Arthur looks as business-like as he can with rumpled clothing and bare feet. To his credit, he still looks pretty mean business-like.

 

Cara is tall, a whole inch taller than Arthur in her nude stilettos. She doesn’t look at the diamond Arthur holds out in her direction. Instead, she finally turns her grey eyes in Eames’ direction. Eames still keeps leaning against the table, slouching, arms crossed as he stares right back her, returning her hard look.

 

“Is that him?” she asks. Without waiting for an answer, she walks past Arthur and towards Eames. Eames holds his stance.

 

Arthur looks troubled as he looks at Eames. He hadn’t wanted Eames to come down with him. But Eames wasn’t letting Arthur anywhere on his own, especially not near his ex who wasn’t too happy about Arthur ditching her and was also hand-picked to succeed a mafia family.

 

“I wondered what kind of woman Arthur could possibly prefer over me,” she told Eames, “but turned out it wasn’t a woman at all.” Her light brown hair is pulled back tightly from her face and fashioned in a high ponytail, which oddly suits her thin face.

 

“If it helps, darling,” Eames drawls out, standing up straighter and drawing himself to his full height, “he didn’t pick me because I am a _man_.”

 

Cara looks at him in utter disdain. Then she turns back to Arthur. “You cannot be serious about _this_ , Arthur. You left us – you left _me_ for... _this_?” With the barest inflection of tone, she manages to insult Eames effectively.

 

Arthur’s face grows hard. Eames doesn’t care about insults and wants to soothe him, rub his back and kiss his neck but he knows it is not his show.

 

“I love Eames,” Arthur tells Cara, “I am in love with him. I am sorry I left the family. I am sorry I hurt you. But I’m not sorry for loving Eames. I will never be sorry for that. Please do not disrespect the man I love.”

 

“This thief,” Cara snaps, repulsed, “who stole my diamond is the reason you throw your life away!”

 

Arthur takes a threatening step towards her and she backs away a little. Eames thinks that they don’t even notice their movements. He can see why Arthur could have been the head honcho of a band of smugglers, etc. Cara might be a worthy successor but she isn’t quite like Arthur.

 

“I didn’t throw my life away,” says Arthur, all pretence of warmth gone. “This is my life. This is what I want. Eames is who I want. I’m sorry you don’t understand that. We were friends once. I’d have liked for you to understand that.”

 

Cara is pasty pale but her anger still manages to tinge her face with red. “This is intolerable. This... this... _nonsense_ you have going on with this man... do you think this will last? You always were looking for such cheap thrills, Arthur. But cheap thrills don’t last. Whatever you think you have now, it will lose its charm. Before long, you’ll realise...”

 

“Cara,” Arthur cuts in coldly, placing the ring in her hand, “If you want to insult me, you can. I deserve it after hurting you. But I will absolutely not stand here and hear you say one more bad thing about Eames and what I have with Eames. It isn’t your place to judge that. If this is all you’re here for, then it is better that you leave. Your business here is done.” Arthur grows progressively colder, his expression harsher as he speaks. A chill descends over the room when he finishes speaking. Both Cara and Eames are spellbound for some long moments, one in fear and the other in awe.

 

When she comes to herself again, Cara flings the ring to the floor and strides out of the room.

 

After the sound of her car dies away, Eames walks towards Arthur and picks up the ring from the floor. Arthur exhales and slumps back against him as Eames puts his arms around him.

 

“She’s a piece of work,” Eames says with a smile, pulling off Arthur’s tie and trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere she has left behind her.

 

Arthur shrugs out of his jacket and waistcoat and drops them to the floor carelessly. Eames holds him tighter against his body.

 

“I’m sorry about her words. She can be...”

 

“Arthur, love, it is absolutely alright.” Eames presses his nose to Arthur’s ear, nuzzles it, and kisses his cheek. “Come on, the storm is gone and we’re both alive. Let’s go and relax.”

 

“I worried about that before,” Arthur confesses as they sit on the deck, looking out towards the sea, “worried about what would come after I gave in to you.” He rests his head on Eames’ shoulder and holds his free hand between his own. Eames is drinking lemonade. He still has residual headache from all the alcohol he consumed last night.

 

Eames squeezes his hand. “What made you change your mind?”

 

Arthur lifts his head and looks at Eames. “It grew unbearable. No matter what came afterwards, ignoring what I have right now, it was becoming impossible. I wanted it so bad, I wanted you so bad. No one else even came close. I knew it would hurt me like nothing before if I lost you. But I had to take that risk. I couldn’t live without taking that risk anymore.”

 

Eames’ eyes are glinting bright blue, catching the last rays of the setting sun.

 

“I cannot promise I will never hurt you, Arthur. I cannot promise for a future I do not know.”

 

“I know,” Arthur holds his hand tighter. “It’s absurd, right?”

 

“But right now, if feels like I can promise you everything that I do have,” Eames puts down his lemonade and turns to face Arthur. “Right now, I can promise you the world, Arthur, if it isn’t too tacky for your taste.”

 

Arthur’s cheeks finally dimple in a smile and Eames feels the weight lift off his shoulders. This is what tells him everything is right with the world – Arthur’s beautiful smile and that soft, loving look in his eyes. “It might not always be a fairytale,” he says, “but let’s make sure we make it past every reality check, yeah, pet?”

 

Arthur puts his arms around Eames and draws closer. “Fairytales are overrated. Half of them are rather freakish to begin with.”

 

“And reality is not all that bad, right?” Eames kisses his temple and places a protective arm around Arthur’s body. “Miss a cue here, take a wrong turn there, but we end up at the right place.”

 

“It’s perfect,” Arthur says, taking the blue diamond from Eames pocket and holding it in his hand, “as long as I have you, everything is perfect.”

 

Eames watches as Arthur slips the ring onto his left ring finger and damn Cara. Cheap thrill or not, Eames is going to make bloody sure he gets to keep Arthur for the rest of his days. Arthur laughs as Eames lowers him onto his back and proceeds to make sweet love to him, promising him everything within his power, giving him all he can, one moment at a time.

 

 

**_finis_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I think I should rename this as 'super cheesy' universe. This is the one where they are supposed to have the feels of all rom-com flicks and be sweetly in love.


End file.
